But when Nick came to the door looking so…well…lost was the best word she could think of, nothing else mattered but him.

“Nick.” Closing the door behind her, she let her coat drop to the floor and reached for him.

They stood there, arms wrapped around each other, comfort seeping through to warm the chill she had brought in with her.

Raising her hands to his face, she looked up at him. “What is it?”

Shrugging, he said, “Everything.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve gone from having every minute of every day programmed to not knowing what the hell to do with myself, which gives me way too much time to think.”

Even after what she had learned that day about John O’Connor, she was still able to feel Nick’s pain over the loss of his friend and boss. Used to his unflappable, polished demeanor, seeing him disheveled in a ratty Harvard T-shirt and old sweats was jarring. Sometime in the course of that long day, the shock apparently wore off and gritty grief set in.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He shifted to press her against the closed door. “I’ve been worried about you. That stuff in the paper…”

“We’re handling it.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being unsafe.” The light caress of his hand on her cheek caused her heart to lurch. He leaned in, bringing with him the scent of spice and soap.

“Nick, wait—”

His lips came down hard and insistent on hers, sucking the breath from her lungs and the starch from her spine. If he hadn’t been holding her up with the weight of his body, she might have slid to the floor. Somehow he maneuvered them so her legs were hooked over his hips, his hands were full of her breasts and his tongue was tangled up with hers—all in the scope of thirty seconds.

Having forgotten everything she’d vowed in the car the moment she saw his grief-stricken face, Sam wove her fingers through his damp, silky hair and pressed hard against his straining erection. Then they were moving, falling. She yelped against his lips and clung to him as he lowered them to the sofa.

Tearing at clothes, desperate for skin, for contact, for relief, they wrestled through layers until there was nothing left between them but raging desire.

“You’re just like I remembered.” His tongue darted in circles around her nipple, and his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. “Tall and curvy and strong…soft in all the right places.” Nick gazed with reverence at breasts that had always seemed too big to her, but he appeared to like what he saw.

Need zipped through her, leaving her desperate and panting. “Nick…” She tugged at him to align them for what she wanted more than the next breath. “Now.”

“Condom,” he said through gritted teeth. “Wait a sec.”